


More

by Emela



Series: Blushing Derek Verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asshole Kate Argent, Blushing Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecure Derek, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Slight Strip Tease, Spanking, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Hey,” Stiles whispers, coming to sit beside him. “Hey.” He puts his arms out, scooting closer and Derek falls into them immediately, burying his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, hands fisting his own t-shirt like he doesn’t know what to do with them.</em>
</p><p>After a run in with Kate Argent, Stiles finds out why Derek is so insecure about sex and is intent on making him feel <em>good</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Breyito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breyito/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [Big Spoon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3512915/), as requested by the darling Breyito who told me exactly how she would like a follow-up to play out ;) This stands pretty well on it's own as it's basically PWP, but if you want to see how they first got together, feel free to give Big Spoon a read! 
> 
> I hope you like it!

Stiles is in love. He’s in _love._

“We know, Stiles,” Lydia and Scott say in unison, looking equally parts fond and exasperated. Well, Scott looks fond. Lydia looks likes she is going to launch herself across the table and drown him in his double fudge sundae. Stiles doesn’t think it would be the worst way to go, mind, and taking up his spoon, stuffs his double fudge in his mouth and chews around it noisily, daring her.

“You don’t understand, Lyds,” he says, eyes rolling back a little because _damn_ that is good fudge. “His-”

“Perfect ass, yes we know.”

“His-”

“Eyes that put mermaids’ fins to shame,” Scott finishes, stealing Stiles’ spoon and grinning. “Also? Worst metaphor ever, dude.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Stiles whispers, resting his chin on his hand in imitation of a Disney princess. Stiles doesn’t care. Disney princesses kick butt. Plus, he’s in-

“Love!” Lydia and Scott yell. “Yes, _we know._ ”

Stiles winces.

“Did I say that out loud?” he asks, eating one of Lydia’s mini marshmallows when she pushes her bowl towards him. He’s so glad he has friends who share. It makes life so much easier, not having to find ways to steal food when no-one is looking.

“Yes, you did,” Scott says, shaking his head. “It’s okay,” he sighs. “I think I was just as bad when I first starting dating Allison.”

Lydia snorts.

“ _Just as bad_ is an understatement,” she says. “No wonder she dumped your ass and fell into my bed instead.” She flicks her hair dramatically, like it proves a point, but Stiles catches the pleased smile that crosses her face at the memory.

“Speaking of people you’ve both slept with”- Stiles smiles when Lydia glares- “where is Allison?”

“She’s meeting her Aunt over at that ice cream parlour just off campus,” Lydia states, suddenly frowning. “I don’t think she was looking forward to it, but she refused to let me come along.”

Stiles nods. He knows that Allison is touchy about her family. That she moved across the state just to get away from them; how she has spent the last three Christmases at Lydia’s to avoid them. He understands it’s only reasonable Allison must want to keep her girlfriend separate from them too. If Stiles hated his family that much he wouldn’t let Derek anywhere near them.

“I think I might go check on her,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, pleased to find ice-cream there that he can lick off. “I have her book.” He digs in his bag, before pulling out a copy of ‘ _There’s ‘Bows’ and then there’s Bows.’_ “How does she even find these things?” he asks, only partially feigning a shudder. He had only wanted it to cross-reference Celtic weaponry for his Folklore paper. He came away knowing nothing but to _never_ get on Allison’s bad side. There had been notes on the pages. Extensive, scary notes and Stiles just doesn’t want to know.

(Except he totally does.)

“Would you?” Lydia asks, ignoring him, relief flooding her face. “It’s not like I’m worried but-”

“You’re worried,” Stiles says, reaching over to pat her hands. She shrugs.

“I’d think she’d appreciate a familiar face. She is just too stubborn to ask. I didn’t want to push.”

“There’s a first,” Scott teases and Lydia shoves him straight out the booth. Stiles has to admit, it’s times like these he remembers why he used to be in love with her. It’s also times like these, however, that remind him exactly why he is glad she never returned those feelings.

“I’m leaving now,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and stepping over Scott, who pouts pathetically after him.

“Asshole,” he yells.

“You love me anyway,” Stiles calls back, saluting his best friend as he opens the diner door.

“Yeah, I do,” Scott grins, saluting back. Stiles rolls his eyes and laughs.

“See you, dude.”

“Just make sure Allison’s okay,” Lydia says pointedly, ignoring them both completely then in favour of pulling Scott’s banana spilt towards her.

The last thing he hears is Scott’s (failed) attempt to win it back.

***

He doesn’t expect to actually talk to Allison. Just to stick his head inside the parlour and make sure she isn’t crying. (Not that he’s ever seen Allison cry- in all honesty, Stiles never supposes he will.)

What he really doesn’t expect to see, however, is Derek standing in front of a horrified Allison and a blonde woman wearing the biggest shit-eating smirk Stiles has ever seen, clutching himself and crying. _Crying._

“Hey!” he yells, snapping the woman with the smirk’s attention towards him. Derek turns too, his face coloured red, but not in the way Stiles loves. Not in the way he’s used to.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks, striding forward to stand protectively in front of Derek, reaching back to take his hand, but having to settle for his wrist as Derek continues to tense up, shying away from any physical contact, although Stiles knows he needs it.

“Kate,” the woman says, extending her hand. Stiles bats it away and Allison stands up to join them.

“I’m so sorry, Derek,” she whispers. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” he replies in a small voice that has Stiles wanting to tear this woman’s throat out because it is so clearly _not_ alright.

“Yes, Derek, it’s _alright_ ,” Kate smiles, all teeth. “We would be doing you a favour anyway, getting rid of all the junk along with house. What you were going to do with all those stupid sun and moon tapestries covering the downstairs windows is beyond me.”

“Those were my mom’s tapestries!” Derek yells, angry, spitting over Stiles’ shoulder before breaking down into tears once more, trying his hardest to fight them, but failing just the same.

“I think you should leave,” Stiles says, stepping forward. “Now.” He hasn’t learned much about Derek’s family yet, but what he does know is that his family home means more to him than anything.

“And if I don’t?” Kate asks, smirking and looking straight past him to Derek. “You know, there used to be a time when you would have begged for me to stay, Derek,” she drawls. “Remember? You were so adorable and awkward. Such an eager puppy for me. So _needy.”_

Something drops in Stiles’ stomach at the words, recalling the first time he and Derek had ever been together, how embarrassed Derek had been in asking for what he wanted- how embarrassed he still gets in asking for what he wants- how he thinks he always has to apologise for it.

Stiles had thought it was just a specific kind of shyness, but now he is thinking Derek might not have always been this way at all. He is certainly as much of an asshole as Stiles is, but as much as he is romantic and sweet- and yeah, terribly awkward- the blushing is almost extreme sometimes. Beyond what Stiles has ever been able to understand.

“Get. Out. You. Cold. Hearted. Bitch.” he grits between his teeth. Kate’s attention is drawn back to him at his serious tone, obviously realising he has no qualms about throwingher out himself if it comes to it. She raises an eyebrow.

“ _Oh._ I see,” she whispers with a grin, making so signs of moving. “Does he whimper when he comes for you too?” she asks. “Has he cried like a baby yet?”

Before Stiles can say anything, Derek turns and runs out the door.

Stiles doesn’t think twice before sprinting after him, happy to hear that Allison doesn’t hold back on yelling at her Aunt even for a second, calling her out in front of everyone else in the parlour. (Reason #34 why she is far better suited to Lydia than she ever was to Scott.)

“Derek, wait!” Stiles calls after him, but Derek doesn’t stop, continuing to run, getting faster with each footstep. Stiles is suddenly very thankful for all those lacrosse suicides his coach made him do back in high-school because he doesn’t want to have to leave Derek alone for a moment longer than possible right now.

It is only another moment before Stiles realises Derek is headed in the direction of their dorm room and he breathes out a sigh of relief, knowing their dorm is safe place for Derek; the only place he has ever been able to talk to Stiles with abandon in.

When Stiles finally reaches their room, seconds behind Derek, he finds him crouched on the floor, head between his legs, whole body heaving with shaky sobs.

“Hey,” Stiles whispers, coming to sit beside him. “Hey.” He puts his arms out, scooting closer and Derek falls into them immediately, burying his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, hands fisting his own t-shirt like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I’ve got you. I’m here,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around him a little tighter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek nods, but doesn’t answer.

“I’m a cop’s son,” Stiles says, deciding it might be best of if he gets the ball rolling. “I used to read up on law practices for fun. I’ll find something to help you and Laura delay the demolition.” Derek nods quickly, but Stiles doesn’t know if he’s really heard him as he only pushes his face further into Stiles’ skin.

Stiles swallows, not sure if he should ask what he really wants to, but knows at the end of the day he needs to if he’s going to be there for Derek properly.

“Did she ever abuse you?” he asks, loud enough for Derek to hear but not enough to sound demanding, like he expects Derek to answer if it’s too hard for him.

“I don’t think so?” Derek says after a moment, and Stiles grip on him tightens involuntarily. He doesn’t _think so?_

“Did she ever touch you without consent?”

“No.” Stiles closes his eyes. _Thank god._

“Did she ever make you feel uncomfortable?” he asks next, placing a kiss to Derek’s temple, opening his legs so Derek can slot between them and wrap his arms around Stiles, just how he likes to do when Stiles is reading a book, but Derek is too tired to do anything other than sleep. He knows Derek likes to hold on to him almost as much as he likes to be held, and Stiles always makes sure Derek receives both. (It’s not like he is complaining, _at all._ )

“She would…she would laugh at me,” Derek whispers, hiccupping. “That’s why I never…I never wanted to go beyond…I’ve never had…”

“Never gone further than hand-jobs?” Stiles finishes for him, running a gentle hand up and down his back.

He’s done much more with Derek than that, but anal is something Derek tenses up about. A lot. At first, Stiles just thought he wanted to take it slow, or maybe he just didn’t know how to tell Stiles he didn’t like to bottom, but every time Stiles let his fingers slide down, teasing him a little there, Derek always responded well. More than well. And now Stiles wants to go back and smash Kate’s face in because if Derek has been holding back on asking for something he wants because all he can think about is being mocked…

“You know I’d never judge you, right?” Stiles asks. “Ever. I am one kinky-fucker. Anything you want, I’ll give to you without question. Well, there might be questions, but I’m very open to anything you have to say.”

“I doubt that,” Derek says, so low Stiles doesn’t think he meant for him to hear.

“You don’t trust that I want to make you happy?” he asks, feeling a little sick at the thought.

“No, it’s not that,” Derek says, pulling back a little, like he’s trying to get himself to look up, but can’t quite manage it. “It’s just…I like you so much. I think I might be in-” he sighs, and that’s okay, even if Stiles’ heart began to beat a little faster, because he isn’t there yet either. Knowing something and saying it are completely different things, even if it doesn’t make the thing any less true.

“I’m so afraid I might lose you,” he goes on, “by being too, you know, needy.” There’s that word again.

“You think I’d dump you because you are _needy_?” Stiles asks. “Derek that’s not-”

“It happens all the time to people,” Derek shrugs, cutting him off, as though stating a fact. “’ _I broke up with her because she was too clingy’…‘I dumped him because he didn’t give me enough space.’_ I wouldn’t blame you, but I just…I’ve never felt so settled with anyone before. I’ve never been able to talk to anyone like this before. I-” he tries to say more, but chokes on whatever it is, beginning to pull away, but Stiles wraps his legs around him, trapping him where he is.

Derek responds immediately in that little adorable grateful way he always does when Stiles understands the thing he’s afraid to voice, afraid to ask for, and does it anyway. Usually, Stiles finds it endearing, a cute quirk. Now he just wants to make sure Derek never feels like he can’t ask for anything ever again.

“Would you do something for me?” he asks, hoping he’s not about to push against any fragile boundaries. (He’d by lying if he said he doesn’t have a habit of doing that to just about everyone he meets. He’s lucky Derek has even stayed with him this long.)

“Anything,” Derek replies, and Stiles refrains from shaking his head, but can’t help the fond smile that breaks across his face in the knowledge Derek really does mean that. He doesn’t know quite how he knows, but he does. Derek really would give him anything he asked for and that both makes his stomach flutter and his heart sink, because clearly Derek doesn’t believe Stiles would.

“Can you tell me your dirtiest fantasy?” he asks, deciding just to go for it. “Something you’d love to try, but never thought you’d get to.” Derek tenses at the words, but doesn’t pull away from him and Stiles places several kisses to his forehead, hoping to reassure him he’s okay. That’s he’s safe with him. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“You can’t know that,” Derek says, although Stiles detects just the slightest bit of hope there.

“Try me.”

He tugs at Derek’s shoulders, pulling him up until his face is in front of him, green, blue, what-the-fuck-even-are-those-wonderful-colours of eyes looking into his.

“Sometimes I fantasise about…” Derek starts, biting his lip, but ultimately frowning and looking away.

“Yes?” Stiles probes gently, but Derek shakes his head.

“I can’t. You’ll think I’m weird.”

“I _promise,_ Derek, I won’t.”

Derek takes a deep breath and hides his face in Stiles’ neck. It seems to settle him, and Stiles goes with it. One day maybe Derek will look him in the eye when it comes to talking about the important stuff, but if he can find it in himself to ask for something outside the heat of the moment right now, Stiles will take it. Take it and run with it so hard that Derek won’t be able to wait to tell him everything he has ever gotten himself off to because Stiles will make him feel _that_ good about it.

“I want you to…” Derek starts again, the last part, unfortunately, lost in a mumble as he presses his lips deeper into Stiles’ neck.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t hear you. What was that?”

Derek’s breath hitches and Stiles frowns, confused for a second, before biting back a smile as realisation dawns on him. He hadn’t meant to use a pet name, but he has to admit, it does thing to Stiles when Derek reacts to them as strongly as he (always) does.

“Sometimes I think about you…” he takes another breath. “Sometimes I think about you spanking me.” He tenses again, whole body shutting up, like he expects Stiles to throw him off him in disgust or something.

“You want me to spank you?” he asks, and something about his tone must appeal to Derek, because the next thing Stiles knows he is raising his head and cautiously looking up at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers, but Stiles takes his face in his hands and pulls Derek in for a deep, long kiss before he can turn away again.

They are both a little breathless at the end of it, both always getting a little carried away even by the laziest of make-out sessions.

“Is it a punishment thing?” he asks, happy to see Derek has relaxed a little now.

“No,” Derek says. “I…it’s more like a…praise thing? For doing well?” His cheeks heat up quickly at the words, pink and oh, so lovely- the kind of blush Stiles loves seeing on him. He doesn’t think Derek will ever get over his embarrassment completely- a lot of it is just part of him- and Stiles is okay with that, he kind of hopes for it, just as long as that embarrassment doesn’t come from a place where he thinks Stiles is going to judge or mock him. ( _Or_ break up with him.)

“Do you want to be a good boy for me?” Stiles whispers after a moment, and the blush extends to the tips of his ears.

Derek nods.

“Only if you want to…” he says, looking away again.

“Oh, I want to. I want to see _exactly_ how perfect you can be for me.” He pulls Derek’s chin up towards him and winks, pulling a small whimper from him. Stiles smiles, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his lips. “Never think that sound doesn’t go straight to my dick,” he says. “Because it does. Every. Single. Time.”

Derek visibly preens at the words, eyes lighting up with it, and Stiles never wants to not see that.

“Do you want to fulfil one of _my_ fantasies before we go any further?”

“Yes,” Derek says, voice already rough with desire. Stiles chuckles, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there, loving how it feels against his skin.

“Strip for me?” he asks.

Derek frowns.

“Y-you want that?”

“Of course I do,” Stiles’ eyes widen. “Dude, have you _seen_ you? I can’t even guess how much money you’d make doing porn.” Derek blushes again and Stiles rolls his eyes because _oh my god._ “Your chest alone makes my mouth water,” he adds, hoping it boosts Derek’s confidence a little. Never again is Stiles going to assume that just because someone has hot body means they are confident. Apparently those two aren’t synonymous after all. Who would have thought?

“Strip?” Stiles asks again, tugging at Derek’s shirt, leaning forward to lick at the shell of his ear. “I want to see.” Derek shivers, but nods, rolling back on to his knees, presumably before giving himself the chance to overthink it, and stands up. It makes Stiles more than a little proud of him, that he’s agreeing to it, even if it is something so small. It isn’t like Stiles hasn’t explored every inch of Derek’s body yet.

“Go slow, okay?” he says when Derek’s hands fumble with the bottom of his t-shirt.

Derek nods, licking his lips nervously as begins to pull the t-shirt up, exposing those glorious- thoroughly lickable abs- before taking it over his head.

“Is this okay?” he asks, like he really thinks he might have gotten the whole thing wrong.

“Perfect,” Stiles breathes, crawling forward until he’s right in front of him. “These too,” he whispers, running both hands over Derek’s denim clad thighs.

Derek’s hands shake as he moves to pop the button of his jeans, and Stiles leans up to kiss his stomach, down his treasure trail, hoping it will ease something in him; let him know how much Stiles appreciates this. Appreciates him.

Derek takes his time pulling his jeans down, but not out of wanting to tease, Stiles realises; more out of the way Stiles is staring, watching intently as each new bit of skin is exposed. (It’s not like he can help staring, okay?)

“So. Fucking. Beautiful,” Stiles says, nuzzling at Derek’s hardening cock through his boxers, inhaling deeply, causing Derek to gasp.

Once the jeans are off, Derek’s hands go for the waistband of his boxers without even waiting to be asked, and Stiles watches in awe as Derek’s whole body begins to flush pink, starting with his face, travelling down his chest and continuing lower and lower still.

Stiles can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off of him, but he can’t help but manhandle Derek, turning him around as he pulls the boxers completely off, revealing that muscular ass he loves so much. Stiles can’t say he’s ever truly thought about spanking, but the thought of making Derek’s ass redder than the rest of him, making every part of him glow with sex and heat, has him throbbing in his own pants.

Kneeling up, he presses his lips to one cheek and snakes a hand around Derek’s wait to stoke him into full hardness.

“Stiles,” Derek moans, hands flying out to cover his, not pushing or asking for more, but just wanting to touch. Stiles gives Derek what he wants instantly, releasing his cock and threading his fingers through his before turning him back around to face him.

Derek tries to cover himself up when Stiles doesn’t do anything but look, but, as he said, it’s not like he can _help_ it. His boyfriend is beautiful and Stiles wants him to more than know it goddammit! He wants Derek to feel it in his fucking _bones_ how beautiful he is.

“Come here,” Stiles says, pulling him towards the bed. Derek goes with him easily, but he’s still tense, like he thinks this is all some big joke, and Stiles can’t have that. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, he reels Derek in for another kiss and just keeps kissing him until he begins to feel all that flesh pressed against him relax again.

“There we go,” Stiles whispers softly and Derek smiles shyly in return. “How do you want to do this?” he asks.

Derek shrugs.

“Whatever way would please you.”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head, raising Derek’s hands and laying them flat against his chest. “This isn’t about me, Derek. How do you usually imagine it? On the bed, over my knee, standing up against the door?”

“T-the second one,” Derek whispers, looking anywhere but Stiles and yet, Stiles doesn’t fail to notice how his cock twitches at the notion, perhaps in the realisation that Stiles really _is_ going to give him this. Smiling, he takes one of Derek’s hands and slides it down his chest until it comes in contact with his cock, wanting to show Derek that having him bent over his knee certainly isn’t failing to have an effect on him also.

“Alright, baby,” Stiles says, sitting down on the bed and pushing himself back on it. “Come on.” He pats his legs and Derek scrambles to lie on top of him, forgetting his shyness momentarily. “Good boy,” Stiles praises.

“Please,” Derek whispers and Stiles runs his fingers through his hair, always so soft although it never looks it.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Be as loud as you want, okay? Don’t hold back on me now.”

“Thank you,” Derek replies and Stiles resists the urge to turn him over and just fucking hold him; to tell him again and again that he doesn’t _need_ to thank him, that Derek being with him is so far past enough that Stiles is struggling to see any part of his future without Derek in it. But, of course, Stiles does none of this- they’re taking it slow and it’s working for them. They’re still in college for Christ’s sake. (Although, that little fact doesn’t put any doubts in Stiles’ mind about how he feels now, or about how he will still be feeling ten years from now, if Derek wants him to.)

Not really sure the proper way to go about spanking someone, he starts by slowly caressing Derek’s ass. He doesn’t get to do it often, except on lazy mornings when Derek is half asleep and can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed by Stiles touching him so intimately when neither of them are two minutes away from an orgasm. (That caressing Derek’s ass nearly always ends up in sex anyway is not Stiles’ fault. Well, partially anyway.)

Stiles doesn’t know what he expects from the first smack, but it certainly isn’t Derek tensing up again, fisting the sheets in front of him like he wants to pull away.

“Sorry, was that too hard, sweetheart?” he asks and Derek _moans,_ shaking his head.

Oh.

He swipes a thumb over the already fading handprint and when he smacks the other cheek, he doesn’t forget to tell Derek what a good boy he is this time. Derek moans again in response, more fervour this time, and Stiles grins. He could get used to doing this. He could get used to doing this every day if Derek wants it.

He doesn’t set a punishing rhythm, alternating smacking each cheek, soothing each one after every blow, and whispering every word of praise he can think of.

Derek shakes with it, and by slap number sixteen, he is breathing heavily and moaning like a- Stiles doesn’t particularly care for the term, but, well, there is no other way to describe it really- wanton whore.

“Look at you, doing so well for me,” he whispers, bringing his hand down again and marvelling at the sight Derek’s ass makes below him, red and sore and fucking _delicious._ He wants to lick it, feel that raw heat against his tongue.

Derek mumbles something in reply and shakily raises himself up to rest on his forearms, lifting his ass up higher. Looking down, Stiles’ cock twitches at the view Derek is giving him, letting him see as pre-come leaks steadily from his slit and onto the bed, cock as red and angry as his ass.

“You like putting on a show for me, don’t you, sweetheart,” Stiles says rather than asks, smacking Derek across both reddened cheeks and biting his lip to prevent the moan that wants to escape him at the mewl Derek makes in response.

“Yes,” Derek breathes out, a flush creeping up his back and that is it, Stiles can’t resist getting a hand under him and turning him over, wanting to watch as that flush spreads across his entire body.

Derek is already pink _all over_ though _,_ from his heated cheeks, down his chest and along his arms, past his thighs, panting heavily, and, to Stiles’ delighted surprise, he doesn’t look away from him; just stares at him, hands twitching slightly as though wanting to cover himself, but refraining, letting Stiles have this. Letting himself have this.

Stiles grins.

“Such a good boy,” he praises. “Letting me see you.” Derek lights up at the praise and his cock twitches, a fresh bead of pre-come sliding down it. Stiles can’t help but reach out and massage it in, stroking Derek’s shaft until he’s arching off the bed, fucking up into Stiles’ hand like he hasn’t been allowed to come in weeks.

“I want-” he gasps, shutting his eyes. “I want-”

“Yes?” Stiles asks. “What do you want, darling?”

Derek makes a strangled moan at that, bucking up into Stiles’ hand with more desperation and before he is aware of what is happening, Stiles watches as Derek quickly turns his face away and spills all over his hand.

When Derek turns back to face him his eyes are wide with shock, the orgasm presumably as much as a surprise to him as Stiles.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers after a second and Stiles’ heart clenches, because _no._

“You look so beautiful like this,” he says. “Don’t apologise for that.”

Derek nods shakily, but Stiles can still tell he thinks he has disappointed him. Removing his hand from Derek’s now soft cock, he makes a show of licking each of his fingers clean of his boyfriend’s come, enjoying the way Derek’s eyes become transfixed by the sight, before gently pushing Derek up the bed so Stiles can move out from underneath him.

He quickly strips out of his clothes and crawls back on top of Derek, kissing up his body as he goes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, placing a soft kiss to one side of Derek’s mouth. Derek nods and lets his hands run freely up and down Stiles’ sides. He does that a lot when Stiles is on top of him, petting him over like he is something precious and it makes Stiles shiver every time without exception, a small smile breaking out on his face as he watches Derek watch his own hands, as though he is making sure they touch all the right places.

“Stiles?” he whispers after a moment, stopping and looking up.

“Yes, Derek?” he says, sweeping his thumb back and forth across Derek’s collar bone. Derek seems to like it when Stiles touches him there, sometimes he even purrs, but right now is not one of those times. Right now, Stiles can see Derek barely even notices the movement, mind wrapped up in something else entirely.

“I think…I mean, I’d like…I’d like to do more,” he finally stammers out.

“More?” Stiles raises his eyebrows. He thinks he knows what Derek is getting at, but he needs to be sure.

Stiles doesn’t think it possible for Derek to blush even deeper, but apparently he is wrong.

“I don’t know how to say it without sounding crass,” he says, biting his lip and looking away. Stiles holds in a laugh.

“Derek,” he whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are tracing his jawline. “My tongue has been in your ass. I think it’s safe to ask for what you want without thinking I might scrunch my face up in disgust.”

Derek smiles, albeit weakly, but it’s still a smile and Stiles counts that as a win.

“Will you fuck me?” he finally asks.

“ _There_ it is,” Stiles teases, nibbling on Derek’s lower lip. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” Derek shrugs, his body beggining to shake slightly as Stiles lets his fingers wander down the length of him, coming to rest just over Derek’s hole.

“If you would rather, we can do this the other way around,” he says, pulling back enough to look into Derek’s eyes. “I’d be more than delighted to bottom. I just want you to be happy.”

Derek frowns, like he can’t quite contemplate that statement.

“Top or bottom, I’m going to take care of you,” Stiles goes on. “I want to take care of you so…damn… badly.”

Derek laughs and rolls his eyes, the first hint of the boy Stiles has become used to seeing every day; the one who isn’t afraid to argue with Stiles over the trivial things and debate the pros and cons of Marvel vs DC comics. The one who yells when Stiles drinks the milk out of the carton and throws pillows at his head when he deliberately teases Derek when he cries at the end of cheesy romantic comedies.

“Only you can make the unsexy sexy,” he says, causing Stiles to roll his eyes in turn.

“Caring _is_ sexy,” he states. “Maybe not in a ‘oh god, I’m hard and leaking’ sort of way, but in an ‘I really love doing this with you and can’t think about it with anyone else, not even my celebrity crushes’ sort of way.”

That has Derek full on laughing and Stiles says nothing, even though a sarcastic comment is on the tip of his tongue, just happy to listen to Derek being happy.

“I lovedoing this with you too,” he finally whispers, bringing his laughter to an abrupt halt. It makes Stiles’ breath hitch because he knowswhat Derek means by that, what he’s saying without actually saying it, and leaning in again, Stiles licks along the seam of Derek’s mouth until he opens it up more fully and allows Stiles’ tongue to slip inside.

Stiles doesn’t know how long they kiss for, would be happy to just kiss Derek like this for the remainder of the day, but Derek seems to still be on board with his original plan and taking Stiles’ hand, runs it back down his body from where it had migrated into his hair until his fingers are splayed across his ass. Stiles squeezes gently and Derek sighs, content, opening his legs up for Stiles in invitation.

“We can still back out any time,” he says, kissing him one last time.

“I know,” Derek answers, giving him one of his private smiles that only Stiles gets to see. It’s the most beautiful smile in the world. (Derek’s smile is the freaking 8th wonder of the world and no-one, not even Lydia, will ever convince him otherwise of that.)

Despite his words, Derek’s whole body starts trembling as Stiles moves down the bed.

“It’s okay, I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing the inside of one of Derek’s thighs and then the other. “Do you want to turn over or do you want to look at me?”

Derek swallows and just from that, Stiles already knows the answer. Sighing, because what is he going to do with this sweet, adorable guy, he lifts both of Derek’s legs over his shoulders and runs a soothing hand over the red marks still covering his ass.

“You’re torn between wanting to turn over so _I_ can’t see _you_ and staying on your back so _you_ can look at _me,_ aren’t you?” Stiles says, shaking his head. Every time they have sex, Derek always manages to hide his face before coming, whether it be in the bed or the crook of Stiles’ neck. Derek has seen him come a hundred times, the sight often tipping Derek over the edge himself, but never, never has he allowed Stiles the same opportunity. Stiles gets it, he does, and he doesn’t want to push Derek, but sometimes it feels like he might die if he doesn’t finally get to see what Derek looks like in that moment.

“Kate used to say the face I made was weird,” Derek says, causing Stiles to frown because…oh. _Oh,_ fuck, he said all that aloud, didn’t he? Scott is so right; his brain to mouth filter is never going to improve. It is right up there with inability to reply sarcastically to almost everything.

“Kate is a bitch,” he says, stroking up and down Derek’s thighs in what he hopes is a soothing manner, rather than sexual, wanting to be serious right now.

“I think she was right though,” Derek says, shaking his head, flushing anew. “When I come on my own…I can’t imagine it, but it feels like it’s unattractive, like I’m in pain or something. My jaws goes all wide and sometimes my mouth opens and closes several times, Kate used to say like a fish and-” he cuts himself off on a sob and taking his legs off his shoulders, Stiles leans back up Derek’s body and slides both hands under him, unable not to hold him this time.

“Sounds to me like she got off on humiliation,” Stiles says, kissing Derek’s nose affectionately. “The fact she didn’t discuss that kink with you prior to whatever you two did makes me beyond angry. She should have discussed it with you, without exception.” He is really beginning to contemplate telling Lydia Kate _did_ make Allison cry today. There is no way Lydia wouldn’t tear the bitch’s throat out, allowing Stiles to remain guilt free because _he_ wouldn’t be the one hitting a girl. Lydia has more balls than him anyway. It would be even more satisfying if she did it.

“For the record,” he adds. “I do not have a humiliation kink and even if I did, I would not use it on you. Consider the kink which was never actually a kink of mine dead. Buried. What even _is_ humiliation? Beats me.”

Derek smiles again, though there are tears threating to spill from his eyes.

“Hey,” Stiles whispers. “None of that in my bed. I’m still slightly hard and I don’t want to start adopting a sexy-times Pavlovian reaction to you crying.” He doesn’t mean it. Derek can cry if he wants, but it’s the only thing that he can think to say that isn’t _it’s alright, I’m here_ which he knows Derek doesn’t want to hear right now. It’s one of the things Derek likes about Stiles apparently- his inability to not make a joke. (The Monica to his Chandler, evidently.)

“Stiles?” he asks after a moment. “Make…uh…make love to me? Now? Please?” Stiles can’t help the laugh that bursts from him at that, nodding quickly and smiling brightly in case Derek takes it the wrong way.

“Gladly,” he says, beginning the path down Derek’s body once more. “Will you pass me the lube?” Derek easily reaches over to the nightstand and gives it to Stiles.

“So good for me,” Stiles says as a thank-you, pushing Derek’s legs back until he’s just about folded in half, exposing all of him.

“Think you could hold yourself open for me?” he asks. Stiles knows he doesn’t need Derek to, that he could easily do it himself, but there’s something about holding himself open for Stiles, being the one to put himself on display, that does something to Derek and Stiles wants him to feel as good as possible for his first time.

Derek is quick to nod and do as Stiles asks, hooking his arms under his thighs and spreading his cheeks. He hisses slightly, his nails, blunt as they are, scratching over where Stiles has spanked him.

Lowering himself down, Stiles places several open-mouth kisses over his fingertips in an imitation of “kissing it better” and one final dirty one across his pucker, like he has several times before. Best to start with the familiar, he thinks.

“You always look so magnificent like this,” he says, picking up the lube and squeezing far more than probably necessary onto his fingers.

He makes sure to let Derek see and the amount seems to relax him. Stiles wishes the guy he had been with during his first time had let him see what was going on. Stiles had been so sure he was going to open him up using nothing more than spit and because Stiles had been so nervous he hadn’t wanted to ask. The guy made sure he was taken care of just fine in the end, but it had taken Stiles way longer to relax and let himself be opened up than it would have if the guy had just done something to calm his nerves in the first place.

Stiles wants Derek to be able to remember his first time and fucking _get off on it,_ but mostly, he just wants him to remember feeling safe, in good hands. Cared for.

“You need to breathe for me, okay?” he tells Derek, gently pushing the tip of one finger inside him. “It makes it easier if you breathe.”

“Can you talk to me?” Derek asks, tensing a little when Stiles’ finger pushes in even further.

“What do you want me to tell you?” he says, moving his other hand to play with Derek’s balls, teasing him slightly. “Want me to tell you how much I think about you, when I’m in class or waiting here for you to come home? How sometimes the thought of your face, your hands, your _ass_ , god your ass Derek, is too much for me and I have to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to jerk off?”

Derek moans, clearly appreciating the visual and it allows Stiles to push right in, fucking Derek nice and slow with one finger.

Derek clenches around him every time he tries to pull out, even a little, hips beginning to rock down as he gets used to the sensation. Stiles has never been too concerned before with anything else other than his partner’s face when he does this, but Derek’s ass really is something else, like it is _made_ for his fingers and he can’t find it in him to look away, watching as his hole spasms around Stiles’ touch, greedy for more.

“How about I tell you about how I sometimes imagine fucking you in my childhood bed,” he continues in a whisper, pushing in with two fingers now, scissoring them slightly before finding his prostate and brushing against it. Derek’s whole body bucks up at the new sensation, of finding _that_ spot.

“Have you ever touched yourself there?” Stiles asks, suddenly realising he doesn’t know. “Ever opened yourself up before?” Derek shakes his head and a spurt of pre-come dribbles down Stiles’ cock because _fuck,_ this is the first time Derek has ever felt this then. Arousal and an even greater feeling of the trust Derek is placing in him courses through his body, pushing buttons he never knew he had.

“When you were younger, just starting to think about sex, what did you think about? What did you fantasise about the most?” He brushes Derek’s prostate again and Derek whimpers, spreading himself open even wider, asking, needing.

“I used to imagine one of those cars, the ones with room for tools in the back,” Derek pants out. “There’d be a blanket and stars and _ngggh,_ ” he gasps when Stiles finally begins to fuck him with three fingers, his whole body flushing an even deeper shade of pink at the confession, almost red now and damn, if that isn’t hot.

“Imagine it for me now,” Stiles whispers. “Then tell me about it.” Derek whimpers at that, closing his eyes, embarrassed to share, but Stiles can see he wants to, that even though they are just in their dorm room, on Derek’s bed, that he knows Stiles will make the fantasy real for him.

“Did I take you out on a date?” he asks, slowing down his rhythm, wanting Derek to be able to speak.

“The car is our date,” he finally says, breathing out shakily. “It’s our fifth and you packed a picnic, but we both forget about it the moment you park the car.”

“Oh yeah?”

Derek nods, smiling slightly as he gets lost in the fantasy.

“As soon as you stop, you climb into my lap and kiss me for a little while. It’s easier for you to climb across the console than me,” Derek adds as an afterthought. Stiles grins and shakes his head fondly. Only Derek would feel the need to explain why a fantasy is playing out in the way it is. “After a bit, you say you have a surprise and you cover my eyes as you walk me to the back of the car.”

“I always have the best surprises,” Stiles teases and Derek lets out a moan like he’s dying when Stiles begins to massage over prostate, really going for it and not relenting until Derek starts to try and fuck himself on Stiles’ fingers, torn between rocking down and thrusting his hips up, cock leaking painfully, trying to find friction where none is to be had.

Stiles want to tell him how good he is for not touching himself, but then Derek starts _babbling,_ real honest to god-Stiles-Stilinski-style _babbling_ and Stiles shuts his mouth.

“There’s a blanket in the back of the car,” he gasps. “And you sit me down on it and push me back… undressing me and kissing me and telling me you only want me…that I’m it for you and somehow I _know_ you mean it, that you are it and then you open me up and you fuck me…and when I come you hold me through it and…oh god- please, Stiles, please, I want…I need you inside me. I want to feel you. Please. _Please._ ”

He starts to whimper again, panting in small short bursts, like he can’t get enough air, holding himself open even further, obscenely wide, and Stiles can’t resist giving his cock a few, firm tugs, needing the release from the sight.  

“Let me just get a condom,” he says, kissing Derek’s knee, but Derek groans in protest.

“No, just you,” he says. “We’re both clean. Please, I want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck,” Stiles whispers, not even the memory of the campus STD clinic helping him to get a hold of his own breath now. “Okay, yeah, I can do that. Fuck, I want to do that.”

Crawling back up Derek’s body, Stiles gently coaxes his eyes open.

“Think you can look at me the whole time?” he asks, slicking himself up before guiding the tip of his cock back against Derek’s hole.

“Please,” is all Derek manages to get out, but he doesn’t close his eyes as Stiles slowly begins to sink into him, terrified of hurting him even though Derek has moved his hands to Stiles’ ass, trying to urge him on faster.

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Stiles says and it’s a testament to how far Derek is gone that he doesn’t roll his eyes. It’s a testament to how far _Stiles_ is gone that he doesn’t even care where the hell the words even came from.

When he’s fully seated, he gives Derek a moment to adjust, taking in his face carefully for any signs of discomfort before easing himself out and pushing back in again. Derek moans and wraps his legs around Stiles’ waist, allowing him to go deeper as he thrusts inside once more, a little harder this time and hitting Derek’s prostate if the way he throws his head back and yells Stiles’ name is anything to go by.

Stiles thinks now is not an appropriate time to fist pump the air.

He doesn’t go fast, but begins to fuck Derek in earnest now, the wet, tight heat of Derek surrounding him more than he thinks he can last with, and even though it’s Derek that’s been teased and opened up, Stiles knows he’s the one who’s going to come first.

“So close,” he grits out, leaning down so he can place a sloppy kiss on Derek’s mouth. “Fuck, Der, I’m gonna- I can’t-”

“Come,” Derek whispers and Stiles does, spilling into Derek, filling him up on a silent cry, every other thought lost to how he has never come this hard before. Derek clenches around him, milking him through the aftershocks before saying his name, like a question, drawing Stiles’ eyes to face.

Stiles looks down at him dazed, just in time to see Derek coming as well, untouched, eyes scrunching up beautifully as he climaxes, mouth opening and closing around Stiles’ name several times, and fuck Kate, because there is no way that’s not one of the best things Stiles has ever seen.

“How do you feel?” Stiles asks after several moments, bracketing Derek in with both arms and nuzzling his forehead with his own.

“Confident?” Derek says. “Can I say that? Is that a thing?”

Stiles laughs, kissing him deeply.

“That’s a thing,” he whispers, letting his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder, moving one hand to card his fingers through his hair and using the other to gently caress Derek’s ass, sweeping over it in small circles.

“Is this what aftercare feels like?” Derek asks, humming slightly as his own hand begins wandering aimlessly over Stiles’ body.

“Yup,” Stiles punctuates the word. “And don’t you ever think I don’t love every minute of it.”

“It’s too nice to argue with,” Derek says and Stiles smiles. _Progress,_ he thinks. _That’s definitely progress._

**Author's Note:**

> Where I live on [ tumblr](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/).


End file.
